A Crime of Poison

by Nancy Haddock

  “Took you long enough, Sissy,” she snapped as she hauled me in the door by my arm. “You been at the farmstead for hours.”

  “An hour and a half, Bernice,” I corrected, knowing I’d see her binoculars on the retro kitchen table.

  “Don’t sass, and get that food on into the kitchen. I’m half starved.”

  I raised a brow as I followed her and plunked the basket on the table. “Don’t you have any food in the house?”

  “Nothing I want to eat.” Bernice scrunched her face, making her look like a pruned elf. “Show me what you brought.”

  I named them for her as I handed over each container of the most perishable foods and she stowed them in the fridge. Sliced ham and half a loaf of bread, baked chicken, tuna-noodle casserole, potato salad, mac and cheese, shrimp creole and rice, a container with sweet green peas and another with green beans and bits of bacon. From the peek I got inside the fridge, she had been slim on dining choices, but these supplies should last her at least a few days.

  She set the cookies, brownies, and lemon bars on her always spotless counter, and I saw that she’d stacked empty plastic containers near the sink. Wonder of wonders! Was she sending those back to the farmhouse? I hoped so. The Six kept supplying containers for the leftovers, and that wasn’t a cheap proposition.

  “What’s this?” she asked as I lifted the icebox cake in its clear plastic container from the basket.

  “Banana icebox cake. It has chocolate and white chocolate mousse in it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Who made it?”

  “My friend Judy at Great Buns Bakery, but it’s a recipe from the Adam Daniel’s restaurant. Very rich, very good. I ate it when Eric took me there in June.”

  She nodded. “Guess that’s enough endorsement for me. Now put these containers in your basket, and tell me why your detective arrested Maise and Aster. He ought to know better.”

  “He’s not working the case. The new detective is. Charlene Vogelman.”

  “Is that Chris Kiddner’s girl?”

  “You know him?”

  “I met him years ago. He moved here from Oklahoma. Worked for the forest people, and then his wife died. Always was a grumpy old guy.”

  I hid a grin at that. Bernice must have thirty years on Charlene’s dad. And grumpy? A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, but I loved her anyway.

  “Are you working the case?” she demanded.

  “Yes, but we’re not making progress narrowing the suspect field. It’s making me a little crazy.”

  “It would. Sissy never liked to be stymied. She forged ahead no matter what.”

  “If I knew where to forge, I’d do it.”

  “You looking for one killer or two?”

  “We have no clue, but we have more information about Cornell, so we’re focusing on his murder.” I cocked my head at Bernice. “Was Cornell’s love of snickerdoodles common knowledge?”

  “Anybody who recalled him at that picnic might remember he gave himself a bellyache on them. It wasn’t the first thing folks came to associate with him.”

  “A bully with a weakness for snickerdoodles? I guess he wouldn’t talk about that.” I paused. “So what would Mark Harmon do, Bernice?”

  “Tell the writers to fix the script, but this is real life. Maybe you ought to hire one of those Magnum guys.” At my blank look, she added, “Get with the program, Sissy. Magnum, P.I. Tom Selleck’s old show. The hunky guy with all the chest hair.”

  I choked, thankful that I didn’t have anything in my mouth. If I had, I would’ve spewed it across the room.

  “Bernice Gilroy!” I exclaimed when I could speak again. “You are a raunchy old lady.”

  “It’s what keeps me young,” she said, and made shooing motions. “Take my advice or don’t, it’s time for my show.”

  “What are you watching tonight?”

  “The news channel. I’m catching up on current events.”

  The door shut behind me with a distinct click, but I swore I heard her cackling as she went back to the kitchen.

  • • •

  I returned to the farmhouse to find Herk had taken his leave. The Six had loaded the flip chart, trifold display board, and easel into my trunk along with the leftovers Maise insisted I take home. And though Amber and T.C. were happy enough to jump into the Camry, they looked out the back window at Fred as we headed down the drive. Sometimes I wondered if they’d be happier living with him, having the run of the yard and Fred to dote on them. But they soon scampered into the passenger seat, where I knew they really shouldn’t ride, but I hadn’t bought them pet car seats yet.

  Who was I kidding? I loved their company. I owed them a trip to the dog park, too, where we could play until we were exhausted. Usually I was the one to collapse on a bench first, but I loved romping with them. Maybe we’d go this weekend.

  “Okay, girls, about that phone call this afternoon. I need to tell Eric about it, but should I wait till tomorrow?”

  Amber sniffed. T.C. just stared at me.

  “Tell him tonight?”

  T.C. meowed. Amber barked.

  “You sure? I bet you just want to see him, don’t you?”

  A streetlight caught the gleam in their eyes.

  “Tell you what, I’ll flip a coin when we get home. And don’t shake your heads at me. If he’s still keeping his distance, he won’t come over anyway.”

  They flopped on the seat, for all intents like kids denied a treat. But when I wheeled into the empty parking lot behind the emporium, they both came alert. A moment later, I thought I knew why. Something white, fastened to the gray alley door, fluttered in the slight breeze.

  What on earth?

  Maybe it was from Judy telling me she wanted to try the cookie experiment just for fun. But, no. Judy had my cell number. She would’ve called or texted.

  A note from Debbie Nicole? Maybe she’d remembered something and wanted me to call. She didn’t have my number. Not unless she’d retrieved it from the library’s Caller ID system.

  I parked and stared at the piece of paper. I could make out large letters on it, but not large enough to read from so far away. Then I shrugged and opened my car door. It was only a hair past eight o’clock. If the note asked me to call, I would.

  I’d scarcely stood when T.C. and Amber shot out of the car right behind me. They sniffed the air and stiffened, their fur standing on end.

  “What’s wrong, girls?” I asked as I pressed the key fob and heard the trunk unlatch.

  Amber answered with a low growl. T.C. hissed.

  Just then, my cell rang. I grabbed it without checking the Caller ID.

  “Read my note,” said the same guttural and partly garbled voice I’d heard this afternoon. “Last warning.”

  The red phone symbol appeared on the screen, and I stood stock-still, gripping the phone until my fingers cramped. When it rang again, I didn’t look at the display.

  I answered with, “Stop bothering me, buster.”

  “What’s wrong?” Eric asked. “Where are you, Nixy?”

  “In the parking lot. There’s a piece of paper taped to the alley door, the animals are acting weird, and I just got a threatening phone call.”

  “Get back in the car and lock the doors. Now.”

  I called to T.C. and Amber, but they were pacing the alley.

  “Forget them. They’ll run if they have to. I’m on the way.”

  I didn’t see anyone lurking nearby, but I slammed the trunk, got in the car, and hit the door locks. In under two minutes, a police car with light bar blazing whipped into the alley at one end, and Eric’s truck screeched around the turn at the other. I couldn’t see the officer in the squad car, but whoever it was turned on the spotlight and played it over the lot.

  Eric jumped out of his truck and slammed the door, a heavy-duty
LED flashlight in hand. He swept it over the Dumpster as he paced around the area, then aimed the light toward the building on the corner.

  “Cut the spotlight,” he called.

  It went dark, but Officer Bryant exited the cruiser and turned on a similar flashlight. He stood by, watching Eric. Presumably waiting for direction.

  Amber and T.C. had cowered at the alley door but now bounded over to Eric. “Hello, ladies,” I heard him say through the window I’d cracked when the cavalry arrived. “Nixy, you okay?”

  “Fine,” I hollered, opening the car door. I climbed out, my heart still racing but my knees not the least bit wobbly.

  Eric crossed the space between us and tugged me into his arms for a quick hard hug. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.”

  “Stay here for a minute, will you? We’re going to look around.”

  I nodded and called T.C and Amber to me. This time they came immediately, and sat at my feet as though guarding me.

  Eric motioned to Doug Bryant, and they converged on the alley door, flashlight beams aimed at the note.

  “Call the techs, Doug,” I heard Eric say. “It’s a long shot, but we might get lucky and find prints.”

  Bryant headed to his patrol car, and Eric joined me. He took my hands, leaned against the car, and tugged me closer.

  I swallowed the lump of nerves in my throat. “What’s on the note?”

  He squeezed my fingers gently. “It reads, Stop asking questions.”

  I gulped. “In letters cut out of a magazine? Handwritten?”

  “Nothing so dramatic as magazine letters. It looks to be a computer printout. I’ll have the crime scene techs confirm it.”

  “Really? The note won’t have to go to the state lab?”

  “Oh, it will. All evidence has to be officially processed, but the tech can give me a simple opinion. Now tell me about the phone call.”

  “There have been two of them today,” I said, and went on to give the few details I could.

  As I spoke, Eric’s mouth grew tighter, his expression stony, and his grip on my hands near crushing. When an SUV pulled into the parking lot, he released me. I guessed the crime scene techs were on call, because that was who climbed out just as a dark sedan cruised in before they unloaded their equipment.

  “Why is Vogelman here?”

  “Nixy, the threats are related to her case.” He quirked a brow at me. “Unless you’re asking questions about something else.”

  “Nope, just the one,” I said, and put on the happiest face I could manage.

  “Then be nice,” he said so only I could hear him. “She’s doing her job.”

  Since Vogelman wore a ferocious scowl along with her dark green pantsuit, keeping my happy face in place took some effort.

  “Ms. Nix.” She greeted me as she reached us.

  “Detective.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked Eric.

  “Threatening note on the emporium’s back door, and Nixy’s received two similar phone calls since this afternoon,” Eric summarized.

  Vogelman glanced at Jan Blair and the second crime scene tech, both busy taking photos of the note, the door, and the alley.

  “What’s the note say?”

  “Stop asking questions.”

  “That’s a threat? Sounds more like good advice.”

  “Detective,” I said sharply, “I am not amused.”

  She gave me a long look, easy to see in the ambient light cast by lamp posts and the officers’ flashlights. When she finally sighed, she said, “Neither am I. Will you please come to the station so I can take your statement?”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  I looked over at Eric, then back at Vogelman. “I’ll need to put my pets upstairs.”

  “Not until I go through the building, you won’t,” Eric said.

  “Did this creep try to break in?”

  “There are no scratches around the door or deadbolt, but I want to be certain he didn’t leave any surprises.”

  “And here I thought I couldn’t get any angrier,” I said through clenched teeth. “This guy is going down.”

  Amber rose to her feet and pawed the side of my leg with a sympathetic whine. T.C. looked as if she wanted to leap into my arms but settled for rubbing her cheek on my tennis shoe.

  Vogelman cleared her throat. “Ms. Nix, why don’t you bring your pets to the station with you, and we’ll get the formalities taken care of so you can get home.”

  I didn’t gape, though I wanted to. I smiled. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate it.”

  She inclined her head. “I’ll meet you there.”

  She strolled back to her car, and I admit I was speechless for all of ten seconds.

  “Wow, that’s some concession,” I said quietly to Eric.

  “Will you be able to hold your temper with her? Count to ten or something?”

  “I’m good. I can count way above ten.”

  “Give me your key, Nixy Drew, and be careful.”

  • • •

  Vogelman sat in a cushioned swivel chair, a lined white pad on the gray metal desk in front of her, a pen in hand. I settled in the unpadded metal seat opposite her. Amber stretched herself across my feet, and T.C. softly purred in my lap. I felt my tension drain away even as Vogelman cleared her throat.

  She told me to start at the beginning, so I did. I related that Eleanor and I had been questioning people, and I told her who when she asked. She’d talked to most of them before we had, and it wasn’t a state secret anyway.

  “Wait, did you ever talk to the Darbys?” I asked.

  “The couple who’d been out of town? I interviewed them yesterday.”

  I waited for her to elaborate, but she only urged me to continue. Rats!

  “Today I talked with Debbie Nicole at the library.”

  “Why her?”

  I hesitated, then picked my way through what to say. “I’d heard about a man she worked with who suddenly moved out of Ozark Arms. There was some mystery around that, so I asked her for the down-low.”

  “And?”

  “I also promised her I wouldn’t tell the story to anyone but Eric.”

  “Are you trying to annoy me?” she asked mildly, but I heard the ire in her tone.

  “I’m keeping my word,” I said. “Oh, and I called the library this evening to alert her about the weird call I got, but she wasn’t in.”

  “You think she might be in danger?”

  “I don’t know, but I didn’t want her to freak out.”

  “Like you did?”

  “I was shaken and concerned, Detective. Not freaked out.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She palmed her cell phone and tapped the screen. “Eric? Are you finished with the walk-through at Ms. Nix’s?”

  She listened. “Right, I do want to see the note, but I don’t need to sign off on the chain-of-evidence form. Ask one of the techs to come to the station with it and you.”

  She disconnected the call, drummed her fingers on the desktop, and then opened several screechy drawers. The noise made Amber lift her head and perk her ears, but when Vogelman fished some stapled papers from the last drawer and closed it, Amber settled again. I wasn’t a master at reading upside down, but the printed list looked like a roster. Vogelman flipped to the second page and made another call.

  “Betty, this is Detective Vogelman. I hope I’m not calling too late.” She paused. “Nothing to watch out for, but I need Debbie Nicole Samp’s number.”

  The woman across from me chuckled, and I marveled at it. Oh, sure, she’d been friendly with me initially, but lately I’d seen nothing but her cop face. Well, except when she allowed me to bring the critters here.

  Vogelman jotted down a number. “Thanks, Betty. I’ll check in
with you soon.”

  The detective disconnected and caught me staring, so I cleared my throat. “Friends in high places?”

  “Neighborhood watch connection. Do you want to phone Debbie Nicole, or do you want me to do it?”

  “I’ll call,” I said, and tapped in the number as Vogelman recited it.

  After apologizing for calling her home number, I told Debbie Nicole about the warning calls but not about the note. She said she hadn’t received a call, but thanked me for the heads-up.

  “I found some memos to myself in an old file,” she told me before she disconnected. “I haven’t had a chance to look through them all, but I’ll let you know if I get more information about Dennis’s family.”

  As I disconnected, Eric came in along with Jan Blair, who handed the suitably sealed note to Vogelman.

  “It’s computer generated on standard printer paper,” Jan said. “I can’t see a single fingerprint on the tape, so there may not be any on the paper.”

  Vogelman nodded. “Thanks. Did you find anything else?”

  “We bagged some cigarette butts, and candy and gum wrappers, but nothing of particular interest.”

  “I figured. Go on home after you finish packing this with the rest.”

  Eric had hung back but pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the desk between me and Vogelman. I figured he was positioning himself to intercept me if I launched myself over the desk at the detective. Which I would never do. Still, it gave him the perfect spot to watch.

  “Ms. Nix, tell Eric what you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Hmm. I suppose I can’t be faulted if you happen to overhear. Plus, Eric won’t have to repeat the information to you and risk getting it wrong.”

  “Hey, I’m right here.”

  I shot him a smile. “Okay, here’s the deal, but please don’t bring this up with Debbie Nicole unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  I relayed the librarian’s story about Dennis, his injured back, Cornell’s harassing him for being gay, and reinjuring his back when Cornell supposedly tried to run Dennis down. I also stressed that the overdose could’ve been an accident, only leaving out that Dennis had told Debbie Nicole to let him die.